Long story short: I ran into someone who knew my older brother and she mentioned I’d gone to school with her sister, so I dug out my yearbooks.
Down the rabbit hole I went.
It’s been awhile since I graduated (*cough* 20 years *cough*) and although I don’t remember most of the specific moments people mentioned when they signed the pages, I can remember the fun we had.
Or the drama – one long passage has the line, “I’m really glad we’re friends again.”
It’s been awhile since I’ve thought about high school, but every few years when I dig out a yearbook or a journal, the memories come rushing back. Luckily, time has dulled all the uncertainty, anger, heartache and insecurity, and I’m left with sentimentality. It’s a nice feeling.
Me, during senior year, in my perpetual daydreamy state. I am wearing my dad’s old button-up shirt and cardigan because I apparently thought it was the 70s.
Origin of Fresh Air Friday.